Lisa's Laws: Complaints aside, gratefulness to the forefront

Sunday

Nov 4, 2012 at 2:00 AM

There has been plenty to complain about this past week. No power. No cable. The Internet is down. The line at Stewart's has been really really really long and some roads are still closed and mail that should have arrived days ago still isn't here. It's been cold and uncomfortable and exceedingly inconvenient, and I, for one, would really appreciate it if everything were back to normal.

Lisa Ramirez

There has been plenty to complain about this past week. No power. No cable. The Internet is down. The line at Stewart's has been really really really long and some roads are still closed and mail that should have arrived days ago still isn't here. It's been cold and uncomfortable and exceedingly inconvenient, and I, for one, would really appreciate it if everything were back to normal.

Clearly, though, any complaint on my part is ridiculous, everyone I love is safe, my home is intact, and Sandy spared us her worst. And the storm also brought into focus some things I am grateful for. Among them:

Volumes 1-8 of Lemony Snicket's "A Series of Unfortunate Events," which Bella and I picked up some weeks back at the Friends of Thrall Library's used book store. Kids' books cost next to nothing there, so we buy them by the armful, and, as it turns out, a kid like Bella can go through an armful of books when school's closed and the lights are out. The perfectly prepared egg and cheese sandwich I had for breakfast Thursday morning at the Summitville Firehouse, cooked by firefighters who cooked and served breakfast, lunch and dinner for their community and who know just how crucial and reassuring a hot meal can be. The last-minute delivery of firewood that arrived just before the wind kicked up. My husband, Chris, who not only kept us safe and dry but who also made perfect coffee every morning and figured out how to get "Rise of the Planet of the Apes" to play on his laptop. Everyone in the the Village of Goshen who managed to light jack-o'-lanterns and hand out fun-size candy bars to Bella. She trick-or-treated there with her pal Devon, who lives in Goshen and invited us to join her when she found out that Halloween was pretty much canceled here on Firehouse Road. (Sure, Halloween may seem like a minor thing compared to all the chaos a hurricane can cause. But if you're 11, and if you spent all of October and the better part of late September conceptualizing, designing and making the perfect "crow" costume, the loss of Halloween is its own kind of trauma.) The tiny pocket of cellphone reception that exists out on Route 209 near the veterans monument, without which we never would have received the email from school telling us it reopened, several from friends and family checking to see that we are OK, and approximately 392 from politicians and their campaigns telling us that there was a hurricane. Sally the cat, who always sleeps at the end of the bed, purring and radiating just enough heat to keep my feet toasty. Our dogs, which bark at Sally and squirrels and the school bus and other dogs and the propane delivery person and even at us, but which do not, for some unknown deviation for characteristic canine behavior, bark at the wind. Dark denim blue jeans, which have a near-magical ability to become more comfortable each consecutive day you wear them and still look clean — or sorta clean. The UPS man, who drove by late in the week. And even though he didn't deliver anything to us, it was nice to see anyway, since a UPS truck is one of the most normal, everyday kind of things that you see go down the road, and is a welcome addition to the utility crews and tree guys. The lovely and comforting silence of a chilly, long and windless night.